


Irritating

by monchy



Series: The Red Button [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:39:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monchy/pseuds/monchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irritating. That's what it is. This whole thing, this... party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irritating

Irritating.

That’s what it is.

Irritating.

This whole thing, this… party. Everybody seems to be happy, having fun or getting drunk, which is not what you’re doing. Ok, so maybe you are getting drunk, but the thing is he, Obi-Wan, your master/lover/friend is in the middle of the room, flirting with everything that has motor skills and completely ignoring you. It probably has something to do with the fight you had last night about… about… well, it must have been about something, right? You don’t actually remember, tough, so you just take another sip of your whisky and keep sulking. He should pay attention to your sulking, but he’s not, he’s just flirting while wearing those leather pants.

Oh yes, the leather pants. Those leather pants that hug his legs perfectly, that sit low on his hips, showing that bit of skin just below his navel and that tightens across his perfectly shaped buttocks every time he moves. Or stretches. Or laughs. Or breaths, for that matter. And there’s been too much breathing going on in those pants lately, definitely. He looks so utterly hot in them that is humanly impossible to stay mad at him, which is precisely what you should be. Instead, you are just brooding in a corner with a glass in your hand while everybody is partying just because Obi-Wan is not looking at you. Which is stupid, because you know that he’s not actually flirting, but being his charming shelf. You hate that he’s so charming. It’s so sexy, and he just doesn’t see it, which only makes him sexier.

And that just sucks, because you know all those people around him are noticing how incredibly adorable and hot he is and they’re probably imagining him naked and that’s something only you can do because he is yours. Yours. Anakin Skywalker’s. He knows you have some jealousy issues, but he just never knows when people are ogling at him. Ogling. You wish he had just listened to you and tattooed your name on his butt, but he thought that it was inappropriate and uncivilized. Just to prove that he was wrong, you tattooed his. Ok, so maybe not the whole name, because, did you know that they made those with needles? Ouch, hello, needles? So you just got a black OK on your inner thigh. When you told him he lectured you for hours for doing such a… what did he say? Ah, yes: stupid, rash, childish thing. That is, until you actually showed him the thing. He loved it, he absolutely and completely adored it. Actually, he pushed you to the nearest wall, took off your pants and then licked it and bit it and kissed it and you ended up having sex on the balcony pushed against the railing, which meant that you probably showed you but to half Coruscant (which is ok, because you have a beautiful ass, after all).

You smile at the memory and then you stop, because you realize that you’re supposed to be mad. Which you are. Bored, too. Because really, a birthday party for Mace Windu? Who the hell wants to celebrate his birthday? You certainly don’t, and he knows it, because he’s throwing this mocking glares at you, which you would answer if your motor skills weren’t completely damaged by the alcohol in your veins. Any case, this party sucks. Although you seem to be the only one who thinks that, everybody else seems to be having a great time. Obi-Wan is flirting, a very drunk Depa Billabais cornering master Vos against the wall (he seems rather scared, actually), and even master Luminara seems to be a tipsy. And oh yes, master Yoda is wearing a red cloak. Red. For Force’s sake: red. He looks like a tiny ugly Christmas tree, and it’s very creepy. It really truly is. He even scared a few younglings who escaped their quarters to come see the party. They will never break the rules again.

Maybe you should try to have some fun, too. Yes, maybe you will, you will stand up and dance a little and smile and… oh, no. There she is. The Bitch. Walking slowly and sensuously towards her very known goal: Obi-Wan. You follow her steps with your eyes, one by one until she reaches Obi-Wan and looks at him as a dog in heat. She could pretty much be wearing a sign that read fuck me Obi-Wan Kenobi for all the subtlety she's showing. Which is not going to happen.

He starts chatting with her, the bastard is actually chatting with her, even when he knows how much you hate her and how much she hates you and how she wants to steal him away. Ohhh, you’re going to have him tattoo your name on his forehead after this. Then again, it might be the alcohol running trough Obi-Wan’s veins what’s making him act like that. He gets rather… affectionate when he gets drunk. And lewd, too. You love it when he comes right behind you, smelling of red wine and tells you in how many different ways he wants to fuck you while licking your ears. It’s quite encouraging. There was that time too in which he asked if he could blindfold you. You told him that he couldn’t, but he still did. He tied you, too. And you begged for more.

You realize that you’re smiling stupidly and you try to focus, which is rather hard, having in mind that you’re drunk, trying to be mad but actually quite horny and that Obi-Wan is wearing the leather pants. Have you talked already about the leather pants? The one that hug his legs and sit low on his hips showing that bit of skin and… isn’t it hot in here?

Focus, you think, you need focus. So you stand up as best as you can and you start walking towards Obi-Wan and The Bitch, because you’re going to pull that bun of hers and make very clear who exactly does Obi-Wan belong to. That’s you, in case she hadn’t noticed. The walking part tough, is being highly difficult, due to the fact that the floor is not cooperating at all and it’s moving, making it impossible for you to actually walk on a straight line. You stumble on a dancing couple, which you notice are masters Windu and Yoda trying to show their abilities at tango. Well… that should be physically challenging, to say the least. But focus, you need focus. Using Windu’s shoulder as support, you keep walking (if you can refer as walking to what you’re doing… it’s more like a creepy drunken dance). You’re getting close, close, closer and… ooohhh, is that a red button you’re seeing on the wall? Focus! You need focus!

Finally, you’re not very sure how, you reach Obi-Wan by graciously tripping with your own feet and falling against his chest. Oh, but he smells soooo good. You look up, only to see Obi-Wan’s blue eyes looking at you, amused. You stand up, using him as support, and look directly at The Bitch, trying to send some kind of mental burning waves that will make her take her hands off Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hip (that one being certainly close to his butt). Of course, no mental waves are happening, so you just decide to be a bit more clear and kindly ask her to remove her hands for your property. The woman, cheeky Bitch, has the guts to ask which property might that be so you, just to make your point very clear, pronounce a clear ‘this’ and grab Obi-Wan’s left buttock and squeeze. Hard. Obi-Wan yelps and before he has time to complain you manage to locate his mouth and kiss him. It’s a big, wet, sloppy, drunk kiss that tastes of cheap whisky and strong cognac and Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to resist and you’re melting and thank the Force he’s holding you because you would definitely fall otherwise and fuck the rest of the world and your anger and your jealousy because Obi-Wan’s tongue is caressing yours and what could be more important than that?

You want to strip him, and you want to do it now, but Obi-Wan seems to be suddenly aware of the fact that you’re in the middle of a drunken crowd, so he starts dragging you out of there. You stumble behind him, completely turned on and still drunk and oh, god, his butt looks so absolutely delicious inside those pants. You think he’s going to your quarters, but he just enters the first room he comes across. Impatient, aren’t we? He pushes you against a wall and while he starts kissing your neck you realize you’re inside a broom closet. Why the hell has the Jedi Temple a broom closet for? Hello! Technology!

But then Obi-Wan’s hand finds your erection and as far as you care you could be in the crater of a volcano, because you’re a melted pile of goo at his feet. Suddenly, you decide that he should be the one becoming jell-o at your feet, so you push him against the door of the tiny room and open his shirt not to kindly. He mumbles something about you being impatient, but when you take one dark nipple inside your mouth he decides that your name is something better to call. You lick the now hard nub, and it tastes salty and great under your tongue while your hands go to the waist of those sinfully tight pants and oh, he is so gone. You love the effect you have on him.

You kneel in front of him and start kissing that bit of skin just below his navel that has been teasing you for the whole night, all the while undoing his pants and lowering them to his ankles, letting then your tongue slid down to his inner thighs as your hands hold his hips. He says something about you being a tease, and that’s the moment you chose to lick his hard member from tip to base, from base to tip and then take it in your mouth. You’d do this every second of your life just to hear those perfect moans and crazy Anakins that come right out of his mouth. Obi-Wan is not a screamer, so you just adore making him loose his control, ascending, descending, teasing him with your tongue while sucking, making him become this shaky mass that’s only capable of articulating the words yes and more and fuck and that’s so good and oh, please, Anakin you’re killing me.

You know that the exact moment to stop is when his hands find your hair, and that’s exactly what you do. He moans in protest and you just smile, but only for a second, because before you know it he has gone to the floor and pushed you so you’re laying uncomfortably on some brooms and he’s on top of you telling you how much of a tease you are. He kisses you, hard and wet and your mouth is full of tongue and it’s all a whirlwind of lights and breaths and soft mouths crashing drunkenly.

His hands work on your own clothes while he gets off his pants and boots. Damn that agility of his. By the time his hands reach the waist of your pants, you’re grabbing his ass and trying to get some friction to happen between your bodies, but damn those pants of yours for standing in the way. He seems to think just the same, because he kneels oh so beautifully naked and pulls them down, going then back to your mouth. Your naked bodies make contact, chest against chest, hard nipples teasing sensitive skin, hips rocking hips and oh God but that’s so much better than just simple friction, that’s your members shamelessly rubbing. You grab one of his buttocks and control the movement of his hips and he bites your lip while mumbling something that could possibly be your name. You smile, until his lips sucking on your neck force you to moan.

You spread your legs to find more contact, all the while screaming… er, something, you can’t really be sure of what, but you sure are being loud because Obi-Wan puts one hand on your mouth to make the sounds lower. He’s still kissing your neck tough, and there are going to be marks tomorrow, and you certainly hope they’re big and purple just so you can show them again to a certain Bitch and see if she gets the point once and for all. While you’re focused on your revenge, Obi-Wan moves off of you, but before you have time to complain he straddles you and guides you inside him in one hard, swift move.

He moans, you scream and it’s so hot and tight and so perfectly Obi-Wan that it’s making you dizzy. You let your metallic hand linger on his ass, because you know he loves the cold contact with that part of his skin and you dig the nails of the real one in his hip while he supports himself on your chest, teasing a nipple almost unconsciously. You sit a little and reach his neck, licking a certain spot you know he loves and that makes him smile that smile that’s just for you. The moment he starts moving, you bite him. He tells you that you’re a fucking vampire but he starts reaching a fast, hard pace that forces him to moan in the middle of the sentence. You hold his hip and meet his moves, thrusting as best as you can in the uncomfortable position you are.

You scratch his skin while biting your lip and then you move your hand to his neglected erection that’s rubbing against your stomach. He sighs in appreciation and you copy the perfect rhythm he’s creating between your bodies. You kiss him again, realizing then that your fast panting doesn’t allow you too, so you just let your lips linger above his.

Obi-Wan is losing his control, the movement becoming more erratic, more uncontrolled, faster and deeper and harder and accompanied by moans of more and yes and right there and don’t stop. You want it to end and you don’t want it to end and it’s too soon and too late and oh, God, you love the effect Obi-Wan has on you. He’s reaching his peak and you’re dancing on the edge but not quite there and it’s torturous and amazing and the sound of flesh meeting flesh mixing with your moans is driving you nuts.

You come in a cry of oh, Obi-Wan and it takes him another couple of seconds to finish between your sweat covered bodies. You try to calm your breathing, but he kisses you and you are breathing his air, his tongue almost choking you so deliciously. He pushes you back to the floor, so you two can somewhat accommodate in the small space you’re in. When he separates, you take a big breath and smile stupidly while he moves to your side, putting his head on your chest. You notice the fact that you’re sharing a post-orgasm drunken cuddle inside a broom closet, but that doesn’t seem all that important now. When you manage to find your voice, you tell him to be careful with The Bitch, because she might just get the wrong ideas if you’re not around. He looks up and gives you that cheeky post-sex smile of his you love so much and, after licking a red mark on your neck, he tells you that you have nothing to worry about, that he’s totally yours. Then, caressing your inner thigh, he points that it says so right there and he lowers to kiss those black O and K on your skin.

And he keeps kissing, and licking, and biting and… ohh, kinky.

That’s what it is.

Kinky.


End file.
